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What Would Mrs. JJaethinkaF Say? 



What Would Mr§. IeUM San? 



A COMEDIETTA 



By DAN MILLIKIN 



BROWN & WHITAKER 

Hamilton, Ohio 

1903 



THE LIBRARY OF \ 
CONGRESS, i 

Two Copies Receivot.' ' 

AUG 19 1803 

Copytight Entry 

Ivus:^ 1 i- /-sf (?3 
CLASS C ^ XXcNo 

% -r ^ ^ 

COPY B, 






COPyWRIGHT, 1903 

BY DAN MILLIKIN 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



DRAMATIS PERSONAE 



Judge Aspenleaf 

Mrs. Aspenleaf 

Doctor Macthinkar 

Reginald Aspenleaf 

Penelope Macthinkar 
Owen 

Marie 



Scene: — A large Sitting-room in Judge Aspenleaf 's Mansion. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Curtain goes u^ to the notes of a hand-organ, loud arid 
strident. Reginald is seen in a rolling chair, -with 
pilloivs and afghan. OiAjen is attending him. They are 
discovered at the left uj^^er fart of the stage, zvhere a 
-wiridoxv is seen or suggested. 

Reg. ( Whining- most dismally^ Take me away; oh, do 

take me away from that noise! 
Ow. Yes, sir; I will, sir. ^He wheels the chair down to the 

center.) 'T is awful music, sir. 
Reg. Close the window, Owen; please do. You must 

want me to die! Call that music! ^Oiven flies to 

close the window?) 

Don't shake the floor so. Don't make so much 

noise. You know I can't stand noise. Don't the 

doctor say so, you big brute? 
Ow. He does, sir. 

The sound of the organ dies azvay as if i?i the distance. 

Reg. Is the Italian going away? 

Ow. {Goes very lightly to make an observation.) He is, 

sir, — him and the other monkey. 
Reg. Oh, don't try to be funny. You know I can't 

endure that when I am so weak. Don't I hear 

another noise? 
Ow. 'T is only a horse, sir. 
Reg. How can you say only? You know the tread of 

a horse is dreadful — simply dreadful! Oh, dear! 

I believe the horse is stopping. 
Ow. 'T is sir. 'T is Doctor Macthinkar gettin' out of it. 
Reg. No, no, no, no! Out of the carriage, you mean. 
Ow. Yes, sir. The horse never c'd get out of the carriage, 

sir. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Reg. Oh, dear, Owen; I wish you would stop that deluge 

of "sirs." It's very tiresome. 
Ow. Yes, sir; 't is sir, indeed, sir. 
Reg. There you go again. Can't you say plain yes and 

be done with it? 
Ow. Oh, yes, sir. That's aisy, sir. 
Reg. And plain, no? 
Ow. Oh, yes, sir, — no, sir, I mean, sir. Yes, sir; I can 

say NO, sir. 

Reginald heats the air feebly, in despair. 

Reg. Was that really the doctor? 

Ow. ^Runs once more to the wmdow.) 'T was indeed, sir. 
He must be in the house by this. 

Reg. I won't see him! Go tell him so! He can't do me 
any good. Go tell him! 

Ow. Oh, he's the dear man, sir, and the friend of the 
family; an' y' know, sir, it's not for me, 

Enter Mrs. As^penleaf R. U. She flies to Reginald, strokes 
his brozv and stools to kiss him xvhile she gushes over 
him. He dodges and moans. 

Mrs. a. How's my darling boy this morning? Feeling 
better since the last little nap, I know. Kiss its 
mother good morning. 
E7iter Judge Asfenleaf, R. U. 

Asp. Ah, Reginald! Feeling better this morning, I know. 
He touches R''s hand as he passes to L. and sits near the 
zvindotv. 

Reg. Go on, Owen, I say! Don't touch me, Mother! 
You irritate me continually. " I won't see that fool 
doctor this morning. I must have some quiet, I 
tell you. 

Mrs. A. flutters over him caressingly, ?ioiv on one side of 
the chair and nozv on the other, as he turns his head from 
side to side, dodging her. 

Mrs. a. Oh, Reggie, dear, don't say you won't see the 
dear old Doctor. He is such a good friend of ours, 
and he has been so patient with you. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Reg. Confound his patience! Haven't I been patient 

with him? 
Asp. {Coming- forward.) Macthinkar is making a very 

careful study of your case, Reginald. 
Reg. Confound his study! I'm no case! I want to be 

let alone, I tell you! 
Mrs. a. And Reggie, dear, he has such a lovely daughter, 
and she has just come home from Europe, and 
she's so accomplished. 
Reg. Confound his daughter! 

Mrs. a. Yes, love; anything you say. She came home 
yesterday, a perfect beauty they say; and the dear old 
Doctor will hardly let her leave him for a minute. 
Reg. Let him have her! Or let the devil fly away with 

her! I don't want her. 
Ow. {Has edged away to R. F., grinning.) See, now, 

where nervous prostration will bring a man! 
A. Reginald, you must be a little reasonable, sick or well. 
You need never see the girl, unless you want to, 
but you must see her father. I do not wish to 
cross you in anything, but I must say with all the 
firmness of an Aspenleaf, that I expect my son to 
treat my friend with courtesy in my house. Owen! 
{Glancing backward to R. U.) See if you cannot 
be of some assistance to the doctor. 
Enter Dr. Mact. ivith a satchel in each hand., a ■polished 
box under one arm and a large cylinder' under the other. 
He is also embarrassed by a cane. Eyideavoring to 
7'em.ove his hat, he drops the cylinder zvith a clang. 
Otven and Judge A. relieve him of his other impedimetits. 
Mact. sinks into a chair at F. , mops himself zvith hand- 
kerchief and reaches for his patienVs hand. It is petu- 
lantly zuithdrazvn. He has already made sundry ejacu- 
lations a7id begins talking as he sits doTvti. 

Mact. Ah, bless me sowl! I had not expectit to come in 
so noisily. How's the sick lad? {Reginald flings 
a corner of the afghan over his face, but the 
Doctor is oblivious.) Aspenleaf, my good friend, I 
am constrained to remark 'at ye have the battery on 
its end and {A. fnakes haste to correct the position of 



What Would Mrs. MacthinKar Say? 



the box.) we are without information as to the 
effect upon the polarity of the current. Electric- 
ity is a wonderful phenomenon, Mrs. Aspenleaf. 

Mrs. a. Isn't it just too funny what they can do with 
electricity? And you're going to try it on Reggie, 
aren't you. I know he'll be delighted! 
Reggie kicks violently. 

Mact. Aye, he will. The treatment I have devised causes 
a violent tickling and sometimes the sensation of 
something crawling upon the skin, but it can hardly 
be called painful. 
Reggie groans. 

Ultimately, if life is prolonged, the treatment is 
absolutely exhilaratin'. Owen, y' have yon cylin- 
der of oxygen where the temperature is excessive? 
It has the sound of an empty can, but strange to 
say the vessel is full of oxygen gas at a pressure of 
aboot seventy or eighty atmospheres. 
A. Why, Macthinkar, no vessel can stand such a pressure! 
The statutes will apply to the shipper of such a 
deadly thing and to common carriers as well. {He 
moves away while talking.) 
Mact. Aye, but the carriers only accept yon cylinder under 
special contracts, and the shipper puts on a tag 
especially cautioning all against jarring and high 
temperature. 'Tis verra dangersome. 
Otven has the cylifider iii his arms^ closely hugged. While 
he expatiates, Macthinkar raps it zvith his kymckles. The 
tzvo Asfenleafs retii'e far u^ the stage, one to the right 
and the other to the left. All talk at once, the cue bei?ig 
Macthittkaj-'s remark to Otven, 

Dinna hug the can so tightly, man; ye'll have it 
warmer every minute!" {He continues^ "And 
dinna drop it, either! You should be calm and 
gentle in the handling of all terrible explosives. 
Me heart was in me mouth a bit ago when I dropped 
the thing. I could tell ye, lad, a tale of a careless, 
lubberly sort of a thing (a porter he was), who 
had the entire abdominal parietes blown away by 
compressed gases. He would not obey orders, 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



an' now he sees his mistake in the better land 
wheer I hope we're all goin, lad." {Meanwhile 
Owen is pi^otesting and begging,^ "I'm not huggin' 
it, Doctor. I'm not hot, I tell you. I have a 
chill on me. Take it from me. Doctor, for the 
love o' mercy. Me parents is old, an' I'm thinkin' 
of marriage, etc., etc." {in his fa7' corner of the 
stage Judge Aspenleaf roars,) ' In the name of all 
common sense, why did you bring that condemned 
thing here? Have it out, Macthinkar; I don't 
ASK it, understand; I command it! A man's house 
is his castle, and I simply will not permit these 
dangerous experiments, no matter how kindly they 
are meant. Take the infernal thing out!" 
(Mrs. Aspenleaf flutters over to the Judge, then 
down to Reginald's chair, then scurries back to her 
safe corner, where she holds her fan opeii and peers 
arou7td it at the infernal machine?) ** You're quite 
right, my dear. It is an outrage to bring such a 
thing into the house, and so funny of Doctor Mac- 
thinkar. Do we agitate you, Reggie, dear? Com- 
pose yourself! Don't lose control of yourself! 
Remember that you are an Aspenleaf. We will 
have the thing out in a moment, if it doesn't blow 
up. Be brave, Reggie, dear! {Meaiiwhile Reginald 
has been feebly crying^ "Take it away, take it 
away! 'Twill make a noise when it goes off, and 
I hate noise! Take it away, Doctor! Keep still, 
all of you! I won't use his old gas, anyway! 
Take me away!" 

The uproar ceases zvhen Macthinkar takes the cylinder and 
produces a ivrench. Ozve?i and Reggie coyitinue their 
deprecatory groans. Macthinkar sits, gives the 2V7'e7ich 
afeiv turns a7id remarks. 

Me good people, ye have been unduly agitated. I 
have inadvertently bro't an empty cylinder and 
left the charged cylinder at me office. 
Judge A., Mrs. A., atid Ozuen graducdly come out of their 

corners, for Ozvenfied to the extreme zving zvheyi relieved 
, of his burdeyi, and Macthinkar continues. The cylinder 

is betvueen his legs as he sits at ease, and he occasionally 



10 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



ta^s it zvith the zvrench, and each clangi7ig souyid 

causes Reggie to tzvist i?i his chair. 
Takin' ye good people all 'round, ye remind me 
verra much of a circumstance at happent in me 
native village, aboot ten miles from the birthplace 
o' Bobbie Burns. Ma father told me it when I 
was no more than eight years old, and I still think 
it verra amusin'. 

Reginald has feehly becko7ied Ozuen to his chair. Otven 
bends over him to receive his com7na7ids. He slotvly 
moves the chair u;p the stage. 

The tale is aboot a man who had twalve dowters. 
Ow. (Aside.) It's the same old story, sir. 

Exeii7it Regi7iald and Ozve7i, slozvly, at R. U. 
The As-penleafs are zvell forivard, liste7iing to Doctor 
Macthi7ikar. 

Mact. Aye, there were twalve dowters, and no son. 

A. Wife, we must switch him off, some way. It takes fif- 
teen minutes for that story to come to an end. 

Mrs. a. Doctor, I think it is time for some tea, just to 
settle our nerves. {,She strikes a bell.) What do 
you say to a cup of our tea from Russia? 

A. Brewed in Russian style. Doctor. 

Mrs. a. With a slice of lemon in it, Doctor. 

A. And a spoonful of rum. Doctor. 

Mact. A spoonful! I thowt the Russians were heavy 

drinkers. But to my story: 

Ente7' Ma7'ie. 

A. Very well. You shall put in the rum to suit yourself. 
Mrs. a. Marie, bring us some tea — the Russian tea. 
Marie. Will madame have ze rumm, also. 

Mact. Assuredly! Bring the rum, tho' ye forget the tea. 
They sta7-e at each other, each evide7itly aynused. Exit 
Marie. 

Who is the little curlew? 
A. That's Mrs. Aspenleaf's latest maid — not the last, I 
fear. This time it is a French production. She 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 11 



has a French tongue, French heels, and plain 
American common sense. 

Mact. I have a smattering of French. I must furbish it 
up and have some polyglot conversation with her. 
It will greatly improve my linguistics. 

A. Well, maybe, maybe! But what would Mrs. Mac- 
thinkar say? 

Marie retur7is and serves the tea, slightly hindered, from 
time to tim.e, by Mrs. As^enleaf. 

Where's the boy? 
Mrs. a. Well, if that isn't the funniest thing. Owen has 
wheeled him out, and we never noticed it. 

A. Good for him, isn't it. Doctor Macthinkar? It's 
pleasant on the porch. He may g^i an appetite 
there. 

Mact. Ah! I was aboot to make minute inquiry as to his 
appetite. 

A. I think it's near zero. What do you say, my dear? 

Mrs. a. Oh, I do not believe he can live long on his 
present diet. He doesn't eat more than a cha- 
meleon every day. 

Mact. A chamele 

Mrs. a. Oh, positively, no. Doctor. The poor, dear 
little darlings! It's a shame to bring the little 
things away from Florida and — other tropical 
countries, Doctor. 

Mact. Yes, yes; but as to his appetite, 

Mrs. a. Why I've told you all about it: I said that he 
ate no more than a chameleon. 

Mact. Aye, you said one each day! Now de gustibzis 7ion 
dispitandnm, but I must say I would not eat one of 
the miserable reptiles, — no matter how cooked, — 
not for the half of auld Scotland! 

Mrs. a. Oh, I didn't mean that. Reggie don't eat cha- 
meleons. What I mean is — is, Don't you know, 

they eat flies? 



12 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Mact. (^Sorely puzzled.) Aye, — they — eat — flies?. 

He futs aivay Ms tea and zuafers zvith ayi expression of 
extreme disgust. 

Mrs. a. Maybe one, maybe three or four in a day, just 
according to luck, don't you know? Sometimes 
no flies for a week. 

Mact. Aye, that may be. ^Desperately puzzled?} 

Mrs. a. Well, what I meant was, Reggie doesn't eat so 
many — so much, I mean. 

Mact. Ah, now I begin to comprehend your metaphor. 
A. Oh, you'll do, Macthinkar! You'll understand her by 
night. How bright the Scotch are! 

Mact. She was not so pairfectly lucid as sometimes, and I 
began to entertain apprehensions that the lad was 
reptilio-carnivorous and perhaps insectivorous. 

Mrs. a. Mercy on us, Doctor! Is that very bad? 

A. Oh, don't worry over a little complication until it comes, 
my dear. Now, Macthinkar, will you let me offer 
you a hint about the boy? 

Mact. Surely, surely! Wisdom sometimes comes from 
the mouths of babes and — 

A. Yes, I know. I've noticed something like that in court. 
And Baalam's ass might possibly illuminate a 
medical society's discussions. But what I wanted 
to suggest to you is that Reggie doesn't sleep 
enough. 

Mact. Aye, tell me of that. I had thought the insomnia 
was somewhat palliatit by the last remedies. 

A. No, I don't get that impression. 

Mrs. a. He doesn't sleep at all. 

A. Oh, come now! That's an extravagant way of 

Mrs. a. No, he does not; and to witness his sufferings is 
just killing me. Night after night I watch the 
poor boy lying there, and as I listen to his heavy 
breathing, 



Mact. Ah, then he's asleep. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 13 



Mrs. a. No, Doctor! Not at all! That's Reggie's way 
of breathing when he's longing and waiting for the 

sleep that never comes. The poor boy told 

me- — —so, himself. {Weeps) You know. 

Doctor, a mother cannot be deceived about her 
child. Can she, love? I don't blame you. Doctor, 
if you don't see things as I do. You've never been 
a mother, Doctor; have you, Doctor? 
She covers her eyes zvith her handkerchief and rocks to 

ayidfro. Macthj?ikar rises, gazes u^zuard and stretches 

his hand tOTJuard the heavens. 

Mact. Madame, as the all-seeing God is my witness, I 

HAVE not! 

A. {in pare?tt/iesis.) No, you don't look it, Macthinkar! 

Mrs. a. {Dabbing her eyes.) But did you ever lie awake 
all thro' a long night, like my poor boy, and did 
you ever count the clock all night long, clear 

round, and round, and round, {She is overcome by 

the horror of it and covers her face with her hands.) 

A. {Aside, and smiling.) "Round and round and round:" 
that would be just thirty-six hours from evening 
to morning! 

Mact. Madame, in me profeyshional duties I have counted 
the clock to my sorrow, when, but for some con- 
siderations of philanthropy, I would have been in 
my bed, oblivious. As for my clock at home, it 
attends to its own countin' while I sleep like a 
good Christian and a weary physician. But now, 
my dear friend, compose yourself, and answer me 
this further interrogatory: Is the lad troubled 
with dreams? 

A. {Aside.) Dreams! He's an old fox! 

Mrs. a. Oh, yes, Doctor; the most terrible dreams. 
Sometimes he merely groans in his sleep; some- 
times he starts up and calls out for help, so terri- 
fied he is. 

A. Why, Macthinkar, you'd be a great cross-examiner. 

Mrs. a. I can't think his rest does him any good, that 
way, do you, Doctor? He must have some 



14 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



unbroken rest, don't you think? It is just heart- 
breaking to see him dream. 

Mact. Aye, it must be so, indeed; especially when he is 
absolutely sleepless. 

Mrs. a. C Turns upon her husband, who has laughed aloud)) 
Now, what's the matter? What did I say? It's 
funny you always laugh when I am crying. 

A. I know right well you would not wish me to take you 
seriously, my dear. But let us have the boy in 
again. Ring for Marie. 
She ri7igs. 

I think it better Reginald should meet the Doctor. 
Enter Marie. 

Marie, go tell Mr. Reginald that we would like to 
speak with him. 
Exit Marie. 

Mact. An' now, before he comes in, I would like to give 
ye the nature of his complaint. Ye must not be 
unduly disturbed by insomnia, or by this or that 
symptom. Behind all the symptoms you notice is 
the general condition of neurasthenia, 

A. ( Very wisely) To be sure, to be sure. 

Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, you've been concealing this from us! 
That's incurable! I just know it is! 

Mact. Madame, compose y'rself; 't is no disease at all; 
'tis simply a natural sequence of a lowered tonus 
of the entire complicated nervous apparatus, the 
ganglionic system included, and that is due, most 
commonly, to a diminished constructive metamor- 
phosis and to a diminished retrograde metamor- 
phosis as well. You get my meanin' ? 

A. Perfectly, perfectly! 

Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, it must be simply delightful to study 
such wonderful things. I have always said that if 
I were to begin life anew I should certainly be a 
physician. 

Mact. {Struck dumb, at first, recovers hi??iself. Aspenleaf 
laughs sardonically.) Verra weel! Now the lad, 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? IS 



in the first place, wants absolute repose of mind. 
Secondly, he must have some passive exercise 
given by a masseur. Thirdly, he wants nourish- 
ment such as I ma}^ prescribe, and this must be 
gently forced upon him by authority. But first of 
all, he must have absolute mental repose. He's 
frettin' and fumin' and damnin', and this must be 
done away with. So, on all accounts, he must 

HAVE A COMPETENT NURSE! 

Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor, I don't think that will do at all. 
You put ME in the care of a nurse, (don't you 
know?) and she simply set me wild. Oh, dear, 
but I can still recall her everlasting talk. 

A. Come, now, my love! Be just to her; I was obliged to 

check you many times in the day. You did the 

talking. 
Mrs. a. Well, I had to — I was so lonely. Oh, but the 

things she did to me, — to make me comfortable! 

And kept writing it all down, too! That was the 

most insolent thing! One night she wrote that I 

was hyste^rical! 
A. Well, there are nurses, — and nurses. 
Mact. And 't is only by the help of a stranger that I can 

induce in the lad that absolute repose of mind, — 

that lowered rate of intellection, — 

A. I understand, — absolute vacuity, — mind empty for a 
time, — Weir Mitchell, you know, my dear. 

Mact. You're on the right track, Aspenleaf, and 

Mrs. a. Well, can't I do that? Can't I empty his poor 
mind? Who so well as his mother? I'll stay with 
him day and night. 

A. No, don't argue the matter, dear. 

Enter Owen, sloivly pushing Reginald in the rolling chair. 
Enter Marie, also, a moment later. 

We must back the Doctor up. We must have a 
nurse, quiet and competent. Let's hear more from 
vou, Doctor. 



16 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 

Reg. {Whinhtg) I won't have another nurse! They're a 
lot of clacking fools! 

Mrs. a. There, love! Do you hear, Doctor? He wants 
his own mother's onliest care, and he shall have 
it! {Hysterically.) 

A. Be firm, wife. Hear the Doctor. 

Mact. Naw, lad, ye must listen to reason. 

Reg. Reason be hanged! I want to be let alone! Alone! 
Do you hear? No one must talk to me! 

Mact. Verra weel, then! ^Impatiently?) I suppose you 
must have a deaf-mute nurse. 

Reg. Yes, I will; yes I will! {Molto appassionato.) 

A. Impossible, m}^ boy! Macthinkar's only 

Reg. Send her to me, send her to me! I won't taste food 
till you do! She's quiet, thank God! Send her 
to me! You said you would! 

Mact. I'll do it, lad. Only be still: these violent pertur- 
bations 

Mrs. a. Why, how perfectly funny! Reggie, dear, 

Reg. At last, at last, ^ there's hope! I'll get well! She'll 
save me! Even now, I get the grace of her gentle, 
quiet presence. {llis voice loses the shrill quality 
of hysteria. He clasps his hands in ecstasy.) 

Mact. Naw, wait a bit, lad, until we confer upon this 
matter. I was, perhaps, unduly precipitate, 

Reg. ^Screafning.) No! I say no! ! Send me the deaf- 
mute nurse! You said you would. Doctor! I 
have your word! Wheel me out, Owen! Can't 
you see that I'm gasping? {He fli7igs open his 
lo^tnging jacket and his shirt-collar.) Air, air! 
Quiet, quiet! The deaf-mute nurse! {Laughing 
hysterically^ 

Ozve7i rushes him 7ip to center door. Marie capers about 
and fajis him zvith her apron. 

Wait, Owen! Turn me round! God bless you. 
Doctor! You 've saved me! It 's noise that's 
killing me, and endless fuss! Give me rest, give 
me peace, or I'll die, PU die! 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 17 



Mrs. A. runs to him sobbiyjg. He Jli7igs her avuay. O-wen 
zuheels him out at center. At that moment the hand- 
orgayi is heard, fortissimo. Ozven returns Tjuith his bur- 
den, and rushes the chair over to R. Reggie, zvith a 
radia?it coiuitcnance stretches out his hayids tozvard the 
Doctor, dozu7i the center of the stage infrojit. 

Reg. {Exhaitstcd.) Quiet, Doctor! Peace, Doctor! The 
deaf-mute! Bless you, Doctor! 

There has been a diminue?ido of the hayid-organ to the va7i- 
ishing-foint. Ozven pushes out the chair and its cargo; 
the fassenger is feebly zvazmig beiiedictions on the doctor 
as it passes from viezv. fudge As^enleaf f>erceives that 
Marie has lingered suj^erfluous, and he disposes of her 
by a zvave of the Jtand. Macthinkar sits collapsed. 
Aspenleaf comes in front of him aiid stands zt'ith his 
hands in his pockets, his feet flaiited far apart, and so 
he sialics at the Doctor, half amused. Mrs. Aspcnleaf 

has gone out zvith her son. Macthinkar raises his 

head, zvags it mournfidly, looks aloft, then at the floor 
again, and heaves a gusty sigh. 

A. Well, what next? 

Mact. a maadhouse. Meself an inmate. 
A. Went too fast, didn't you? 

Mact. Aye, me cursed tongue was ever too nimble. 
A. And a little too far, eh, old man? 

Mact. A hundred leagues beyond the extremest limits of 
any possibeelities of performance. And I gave 

HIM ME WORRD OF HONOR! 

A. Know any deaf-mute you could convert into a nurse? 
Mact. There 's no such girl in the town, — nor in the wide 

world. And I gave 'im Macthinkar's word of 

honor! 
A. Well, then, you miserable old sinner, do you know any 

nurse you could convert into a deaf-mute? 
Mact. Impossible, my dear Aspenleaf! Hey? Yes! No! 

Preposterous! Hoot, mon, there's Penelope. 

He springs to his feet and half embraces Aspenleaf, shakes 
his hand and potuids him, on the back. 

There 's Penelope, I tell you! She can do any- 
thing! She can untie this snarl. But Aspenleaf, 
Aspenleaf! 



18 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 

He sinks again into his chair, a boneless mass. 

A. Doctor? 

Mact. Aspenleaf, what wad Mrs. Macthinkar say? 

A. Well, she doesn't appear in this case. Who's Penelope? 

Mact. Ma dowter, — ma bairnie, — long absent, and just 

home from Edinboro. 
A. Just home from Edinboro! Deaf and dumb? 
Mact. God forbid, man, unless we have her so for a season. 
A. Trained nurse? 
Mact. That she is, and a graduate. 
A. Will she take the job? 

Mact. Well, man, she is full of all goodness and gentleness 
and filial obedience and philanthropy. I shame 
to submit the case to her. She can tell us her 
mind with lucidity. She has much of her good 
mother's conversational powers. 

A. Oh, hang her conversational powers! We want her to 
make signs. 

Mact. Aye, we do. 

A. Is the girl at home? Shall I — 

Mact. Alas, poor Penelope! I left her reading in the car- 
riage, at your door, and here have I been drinking 
tea 

A. I'll have her up, instantly. 

//e moves azvay toward the center entrance. 

Mact. Aspenleaf! Do not go yet! Give me a bit to col- 
lect me thoughts before I broach this matter to her. 

A. Oh, never mind your thoughts. I'll broach the matter 
before you see her. 
Exit. 

Mact. Aspenleaf! Was there ever a man so precipitate? 

E?iter Mrs. Asi)enleaf in a Jifie state of hysterics. She 
rushes to the Doctor, Marie at her heels, a?id flings her 
arms about his neck. At that moment he is making a 
i>rofound boza and the embrace is a failure. He on one 
side and Marie on the other assist her to a chair. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 19 



Mact. (Aside.) Macthinkar, be a thinkin'! She must 
not see Penelope yet! Madame, I must implore 
you to go to your bed. Ye're in such a state 
that the cerebrum should be lowered. Let me 
implore you to go away and moderate this grief, 
and assume the supine po 

Mrs. a. ( Weeping violently?) Oh — but — he's — laughing, 
— Doctor, — continually! He, he, he's so over- 
joyed at your kindness. 

Mact. He must have his way for a time, madame. Marie, 
— (isn't it Marie?) Have her away! Have her 
horizontal! Have her secludit! Her head low, 
remember — lower than her lower extremities. 

Marie. Ah, Madame, we mus' obey Monsieur le Docteur. 

They assist he}' to I'ise and go otit at R. U. Before she is 
out of sight Aspenleaf and Peiielope come in at C. Mac- 
thinkar makes frantic signs to them, to remain quiet and 
to stay otit, and at the sam.e tim,e he is 7'unning to and 
fro, hurryi7ig Marie and her limp charge. At the last 
he m.oves the screen to great advantage. 

You will lean on me, Madame. I am so strong. 
Exeunt Marie and Mrs. A. 

Pen. {Airily.) Oh, you horrible old man! You forgot 
me, you know you did! Left me out there with 
the coachman while you drank tea! What ails you. 
Father? Just look at your tie! Why 't is nearly 
under your ear. Pardon me. Judge Aspenleaf, 
but this dear old man must be straightened up. 

She leads him a little zvay dozuyi the stage, adjusts the tie, 
tosses his hair this zc>ay and that, and gives him a lov- 
ing tap o?i each cheek. 

There you are! And Father, Pm so delighted; 
Judge Aspenleaf vows that he remembers me from 
long ago, when I was a very little girl. And he 
says that you have very important business with 
me. {Airily.) 
A vciy chilliyig pause. 

Mact. Go on, Aspenleaf! I cannot! 

A. The matter relates to my son Reginald, Miss Penelope. 



20 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Her radia7it manner vanishes instantly. Erect as an 
Indian she turns to her father, and after a long and 
steady look, she gives Asftenleaf f)erinission to ^proceed. 
Each instant her chin goes higher. 

Pen. Well, sir! 

A. We have reason to believe that his health,— perhaps 

his life, — are in your hands. 
Pen. {With freezing dignity, a^id a frown.) Sir, must he 

send ambassadors? Can he not speak for himself? 
A. {Aside.) Now what have I done? Miss Penelope, my 

son is sick with an obscure malady which baffles 

your good father's skill. 

Pen. {Unbending.) And I am very sorry; but 

A. If you will allow me to drive straight to the point, he 

cannot recover without a nurse of unique gifts. 
Pen. My father can surely recommend one. 
A. And he has nominated you. 
Pen. ( Turns to Macthinkar and puts a world of upbi'aiding 

in one word.) Father! 

A. It is not alone that my son will require absolute quiet. 

Aspenleaf takes a long breath before he plunges in. 

A certain whim of his, induced, I may remark, by 

your father, must — not — be — crossed. 

She zinll not so much as raise a7i eyebrozv in interrogatioyi, 
and tier frozvn deep)ens. 

He must and will have a deaf-mute nurse! 
Pen. {Turning to Macthinkar.) Father! 

A. We think that you have the special knowledge and the 
mother-wit to play the part. 

Pen. Sir!^ 

A. You can save him! 

Pen. No! No! 

A. We are helpless and beaten, Miss Penelope. It is 
upon this very last and most foolish fancy that we 
build some little hope. Nay, let me tell you that 
he also shows for the first time in weeks, some 
hope and desire of recovery. 

Pen. Is it possible? 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 21 



A. Scorn these sick fancies if you will, scout these small 

hopes of ours, No, no! I must not fret you 

with a father's pleadings. Turn rather to our 

wise old counsellor, your honored father and my 

friend, and your final verdict shall be unchallenged 

as the oracles of a fair priestess in her sacred 

temple. 

He takes her hand, tairesisted. 

Forgive me if I seem to plead again, but I cannot 

doubt that my poor boy's life and reason, — his 

whole destiny, lie in these little hands. 

He kisses her hands aiid retires, backing azuay from her 
as from royalty. She turns, gazing as if ujider enchant- 
ment. Even her arms do not at once fall, btit remain 
extefided tozvard him. Follozuifig As^enleaf ivith her 
gaze, she has turned her hack ufon her fathe?". 

Eiiter Marie at center. She slifs behind the screen, 
U7iseen. 

Mact. He}^, Macthinkar! But she's verra like her mother 
at the same age. 

Penelofe turns, comes dozvn the stage a fezu steps, con- 
fro7its her father' and looks bravely into his eyes. 

Will ye help us, Penelope? Will ye, child? 

Pen. (^With the utmost veheinence,) Will I play a fool's 
part, and live a lie before Reginald? No! 

Mact. She's verra like her mother! 

He zualks about a small circle and faces her again. 
Is this my girl 'at went into exile for long years, 
and slaved night and day, and faced the pestilence, 
to qualify herself for pure philanthropy? Is this 
she 'at wrote the brave letters aboot the joy of 
livin' and dyin' for mankind? 

Pen. I cannot serve Reginald Aspenleaf . Let that be my 
answer, now and ever. 

Mact. Then ye've grace and charity for all mankind save 
only this boy, child of my best and dearest friends, 
— him whom I loved as my own son, aye from the 
hour of his first breath. 

Pen. I cannot be of an}^ service to him. 



22 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 

Mact. What have ye against him? 

Pen. Nothing. 

Mact. Ye could not have aught; ye have not seen him 

since baby days. 
Pen. I have. 
Mact. No, ye're wrong. 

Pen. Listen to me! You know I had a fever in Edinboro? 
Mact. Aye; I have Sinclair's notes of the case. 
Pen. And when the fever had burned out, Sinclair sent me 

to the Riviera to spend the later winter? 
Mact. To be sure. 

Pen. And there I met Reginald Aspenleaf. 
Mact. Penelope; you never wrote me this. 
Pen. For good reason I never mentioned him. We 

wretched young fools made sport of him. He 

WAS a little odd. His malady was even then 

creeping upon him, if we callous dullards could 

have seen the truth. 
Mact. The poor lad! At the critical time when he needed 

companionship and reasonable sympathy. 
Pen. And, Father, I even thought I was aweary of him. 
Mact. Ye thowt it then; but now ? 

Pen. Through the very cloud that was over his mind the 
sweetness and nobility of the boy shone out, 

Mact. And even yet 

Pen. But in sweet charity set it down for me that I was a 
fever-wither'd thing. Father, I did not know 
myself, nor my poor heart, nor his worth, and, oh, 
God, I did not know his peril! 

Mact. Was there more atween ye? 

Pen. Must I tell you? 

Mact. Had ye not better? 

She has been draiving nearer and her zvrath has faded 
zuhile she has bee?i exculpating- herself. Her head comes 
to his shoulder and his ar in falls about her zuaist. 

Had ye not better tell me ? Or maybe your mother ? 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 23 



Pen. No, no! You, only you! 

From the bosom of her dress she snatches a ;pa-per, gives it 
to her father. She turris aivay ajid leans against a 
table zc'hile he I'eads. 

Mact. a brave and honest lover might write such a declar- 
ation. 

She returyis the :pafer to its hiding place. 
And ye refused him? 

Pen. I did not even answer the note. I made public 
property of it among my giggling companions. 

Mact. And you did the like o'that! 

Pen. And we heard rumors that he was worse, and presently 
he was gone. 

M/CT. Girrl, your sin is great! Ye've brought him near 
to death, and worse. 

Peiv. But now you see how it is I cannot serve him, tho' I 
would gladly die to save him. And, now that you 
know more about him, you can help him, Father? 

Maci. That I can not. 

Pen. Oh, God, is it too late? 

Mact. Be quiet, child! Ye know I am no homeopath, 
but for this once, like must cure like. If in yon 
southern land of Italy (the perilous land of love, 
they say,) the glint of your bonnie eyes or the 
touch of your warm fingers bred love and mad 
despair in the poor, sick lad, then he must drink 
deeper of the same poison to come back to sanity, 
and strength, and manliness. 

Pen. Father, do not say that! 

Mact. On me profeyshional worrd 't is true. Look ye, 
lass, I was tricked into this comedy by me foolish 
tongue that outran me judgment and promised the 
impossible, — a deaf-mute nurse; and I was aboot 
to join Aspenleaf in prayers that ye'd play the 
part to save me word of honor. But if you ever 
toyed with this poor lad's affections, I adjure ye 
now to nurse him back to health, not for my sake 
or my honor, but for his succor and your own due 



24 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



penance. Ye war to blame, Penelope, I'm thinkin', 
and there's but one way to set yourself right in the 
books above. 

Pen. I cannot, I cannot! What would he think of me? 

Mact. As of a very competent, robust, afflictit young 
nurse. Betimes he'll be thinkin' of the chatterin', 
sallow, emaciatit convalescent whom he met at 
Monaco, but I doot that he can blend the sick girl^ 
and the deaf-mute into one. 

Pen. You think that he would not know me? 

Mact. Never! Ye've grown in stature, actually, of lat^'. 
I scarce knew ye at first. An' mind 3'e, he saw /e 
but after sickness. 

Pen. He will know me; — he will know me! 

Mact. No, child, no! Did ye no write to me that yer iair 
was short? Did not Sinclair cut it off? 

Pen. Yes, and while we frolicked down in Italy, I wore a 
blond wig. 

Mact. Say no more, girl; say no word but that ye will 
help us. 
She slozuly extends her hand. He grasps it eagerly. 

Pen. On the word of a Macthinkar, I will. 

Mact. And on the word of a Macthinkar, we will soon 
have him well. But an ill thought conies to me, 
Penelope. If he got that name of Macthinkar 
attached to ye, down in Italy, and if he hears it 
here, again, he will identify ye, and he'll know 3^e 
for my dowter. 

Pen. Be cmsy on that head, Father; for it happened that 
my friends gave me the nickname of Pen, and he 
always addressed me as Miss Penn. It amused 
us, and we never undeceived him. His notes to 
me were so addressed. 

Mact. Nah isn't that merely providential? Child, I wish 
we had your nurse's uniform. I'd soon set ye to 
work. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



25 



Pen. It is in the bag in the carriage. Don't you remem- 
ber we were going to show it to the nurses at the 
hospital? 

Mact- Ah, I'm in such a coil that I forgot it. Nah, surely 
here's the verra forefinger of providence! Have it 
up immediately! Marie! \He rings the bell.) 
Put it on before the boy sees ye. It will disguise 
ye completely. Marie! Marie! 
Marie slips in from behind the screen. 

Marie. Monsieur le Docteur. 

Mact. Will ye have the goodnees to run out to the carriage 
and fetch the traveling bag, — the larger one. 
Marie riuis up the stage. 

Come back here a bit till I make ye acquaintit. 
This is the new nurse for Mr. Reginald. She's 
deaf and dumb, you understand, and ye cannot 
chatter with her; but that's little matter, for you 
French girls can talk with your hands and feet. 

Marie regards the nezv nurse ivith somethi72g more than a 
respectful smile. 

An' as for the nurse, she can understand a little by 
the method of lip-reading. See me now. {To 
Penelope^ This is Marie. D' ye get the name? 
MARIE! MARIE! 

Penelope smiles and nods, but Marie laughs outright. 

Marie. It iz ver' wonderful. Monsieur le Docteur. 

She runs axvay again, but Mact. stops her. 
Mact. Marie, ye need not waste any time on the man in 

the carriage: he's a marrit man an' has fower 

children. 

Marie pouts prettily, tJien abruptly passes into a state of 
grief. 

Marie. Ah, Monsieur le Docteur, I could crry for one so 
beautiful w'ich cannot hear nor spik. 

But she does not cry; she claps her hatid over her mouth 
and does not quite smother her laughter as she runs 
atvay . 
.Exit Marie. 
Mathinkar and his daughter sink into chairs dejectedly. 



26 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Mact. Penelope, I misdoot she suspects us. 

Pen. I misdoubt she was behind that screen. 

Mact. i^Goi7ig to i?ispect it.) Aye, we were verra careless. 
Make friends with her, Penelope. Buy her, if ye 
must. Wheedle her all ye can. Promise her 
something: promises have a marvelous power with 
lasses; a promise is better than purchase. 

Pen. We can do nothing without her. 

Mact. Oh, she can merely ruin all if she becomes hostile. 
Ah, Mrs. Aspenleaf! 
Enter Mrs. A. 

Mact. You've come in good time. This is the nurse for 
Reginald, — the deaf-mute, ye know. 

Mrs. A. (^Inspe c ting critically.) Why, how funny, 

Doctor! She looks like a person of intelligence 

and breeding. 
Mact. Oh, aye, she does. I will vouch for her, indeed, 

oh yes, — quite as if she were my own dowter. 

(Aside.) Now that's verra good. 
Mrs. a. Oh, I hope that Reggie will be pleased. Men are 

so funny that way, you know; they want a thing 

ever and ever so much until they get it, and then 

the thing they want they don't want. 
Mact. Oh, he's verra fond of her, — I would say he was, 

NO What am I sayin'? I mean he will be. 
Mrs. a. Why, Doctor Macthinkar! Her face is very 

familiar to me. 

She turns from one to the other, scayini^ig them most 
critically. 

I^think these resemblances are the funniest things, 
don't you? Now I can't tell, for the life of me, 
whether she looks like some person I know very 
well or whether the other person resembles — the 
one — 

She is looking at Penelofe so hard that she ca?iJ7ot go on 
zuith the -pro-position. 

Do I make signs to her? or has she a slate? Pm 
sure that Reggie can't endure a slate, because the 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 27 



pencil squeaks so. And she can't hear it squeak, 
either. 

Mact. Oh, she's quick to comprehend any pantomime. 
Sometimes, if ye're in a great pinch, ye must write. 
An' she has a wonderful gift of reading from the 
lips, if ye get right in front of her and speak slowly. 
See now! {He brijigs Fe?ielope forward and bawls 
at her,) This is the Mother of the Boy. 
Mother; MOTHER, y' know. 

Penelope bozvs. 

Mrs. a. Oh, isn't that the most touching thing? 
Enter Marie zvith the hag. 

I could cry when I look at her. So intelligent, too. 
I'm going to kiss you, dear! 
She kisses Penelope betxveeii the broTUS. 

Mact. {Aside.) I'm certainly comin' oot a graand liar! 
Mrs. a. Marie, see that the blue room is in order for the 
nurse. 

Marie. {Makes big- eyes and whistles.) Ze blue room! 
Mrs. a. To be sure, — the front guest-chamber. 

Exit Ma7'ie. 

Now, you poor thing, I want you to sit down and, 

Oh, I will forget that she's deaf. 

She leads Penelope to a chair, and smiles all sorts of hos- 
pitality at he7'. 

There, now! Now, Doctor, tell me all about the 
dear daughter who has been so long abroad. Do 
you know, I'm just wild to see her. 

Macthinkar makes a gesture toivard Petielope, btit checks 
himself in good time. 

Won't you ask her to waive ceremony and call on 
me? I must show her to Reginald. They were 
such cunning things when they were babies 
together, — don't you remember? It won't do him 
any harm to see her, will it? not if she doesn't 
talk too much to him about old times. 
Mact. Oh, she'll come; there's no doot o' that; that is to 
say, — she'll be here. And as for talkin', I have 



28 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 

strictly charged her, — that is I will charge her, — 
ah, — not to say a word,— ah, — until some oppor- 
tune opportunity! (What do you think o' that, 
Penelope?) 

Mrs. a. What is she like? Did she grow up tall? 
Would I know her, do you think? 

Mact. She's aboot as tall and straight as yon nurse. 
Mrs. a. But has a better carriage, Doctor? 
Mact. Oh, I could not say so, precisely. I think yon's 
a noble lookin' young woman. 

Mrs. a. Oh, Doctor! What would Mrs. Macthinkar say? 

Mact. Mrs. Macthinkar? Aye, to be sure! Oh, she'd 
ne'er accuse me of a flirtation here. She'd say, if 
she were in possession of all the facts, that I am 
old enough to be the girl's father. 

Mrs. a. Oh, I don't know, I don't know. I think I shall 
have Mrs. Macthinkar in to look at the girl. 

Mact. No, no! Seriously, if you do that, ye'll spoil all 
that we hope *to do for Reginald. {Aside.) Now 
ye're in deep water, Macthinkar! Have a care how 
ye swim oot! 

Mrs. a. Oh, I was only teasing. Doctor. 

Mact. I'll be able to tell ye something verra romantic 
aboot this nurse, some day, if ye don't introduce' 
Mrs. Macthinkar into our little comedy. 

Mrs. a. Comedy? 

Mact. Aye, we'll call it that, for every little chapter of life 
is either comedy or tragedy, and it is the whole 
object of your old friend, Macthinkar, to suppress 
the tragic, d'ye see? Now, in the case of this 
girrl, the nurse, Mrs. Macthinkar knows her early 
history absolutely; an' as for the romantic chapters, 
she's bound to know them too in good time, if ye 
only are discreet. 

Mrs. a. Oh, I won't tell them! You know how close I 
am about anything that ought to be kept. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 29 



Mact. I do that! Ye never repeat romances that have not 
been told to you, especially those that haven't 
happent yet. 

She strikes at him playfully zvith her fan and he smiles 
g-rtmly. 

'Deed but ye remind me of an auld Scotch story, 
— I think I was aboot narratin' it to you this 
mornin', but was somehow divertit. 'T is of a poor 
man who lived at the side of the river Ayr in the 
immediate viceenity of Robbie Burns' birthplace. 

Now this poor man had twalve dowters, 

The telepione, in full viezv at the back of the sta^e, rifi^^s 
violently. 

Mrs. A. {Rising.) One moment, Doctor, 

Mact. No, no! Let the nurse answer it, 



Mrs. a. {To Penelope) If you will be so good, dear, 

They both look at Penelope, taho retaiiis her composure 

finely and moves never a muscle. 
They burst into laughter together. 

Oh, you foolish man! To forget that she was 
deaf! 

Enter Marie and Ozven. 

Answer the telephone, Marie. {Marie runs to the 
'phone. It rings furiously before she reaches it.) 
Mact. As I was sayin', he had twalve dowters, and he had 
no son. Now the first dowter he named Euterpe, — 
Marie has anszuered the phone and comes dozvn to the 
front. 

Marie. Madame, one would spik wiz you. 

Mrs. A. goes to the 'phone. 
Mact. The second, Mnemosyne, 

Mrs. a. What is it? Who? Oh, is it you, Mrs. Mac- 
thinkar? Yes, dear; the Doctor's here. He'll 

speak with you in a minute. He is very irritable 

this morning, but the Doctor has got us a nurse 
and Reggie's so pleased in anticipation. We're 

just sure he'll do better. What? Louder! 

. Mercy on us! Hear me now? I can't talk 

any louder if the house catches fire. Yes, the 



30 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Doctor got us a nurse, and (isn't it just too funny?) 

she's a deaf-mute. Yes, that's what I said. 

Deaf and dumb? Why, of course! No, she 

can't hear a thing. Oh, she's tall and very 

intelligent looking. 1 should think she was 

about Reggie's age. Oh, she's really very 

handsome. Just a little of the dull look, you 

know, that deaf-mutes have 

Macthinkar af fears to he looking for his hat and cane. 

Never heard the Doctor what? Oh! Never 

heard him mention her? 

Exit Macthinkar, very hastily ando?i tif-toe. 

Yes, dear, he's right here. He'll speak to you. 

Enter Ozven. 

What say? Oh, you said good-bye? Now 

isn't it funny, I was just drawing breath to say the 

same to you? Well, GOOD-bye! Yes. 

Good-BYE! You'll hold the 'phone a moment, 

won't you? GooD-bye! 

She comes dojvn the stage a little zuay. 

Doctor, Mrs. Macthinkar would like to speak 

Why, how perfectly funny! He's gone! Well, 
what will Mrs. Macthinkar say? 
She returns to the ''phone. 

Hello! Don't you know when I told you the 

Doctor was here? Well, he had just gone. 

Yes, he has; really! I think you may be able to 
catch him at the hospital in about ten minutes. 

Yes, oh yes! GooD-bye! What say? 

Gh! How funny. I said good-bye, too, the very 

same instant. Oh, do drop in, any time! 

Reggie is so fond of you. He says he just simply 
adores the way you express your opinions. And 
be sure to bring that new-found daughter. If she 
don't care to see the rest of us, she will be 

interested in the deaf-and-dumb nurse. Yes, 

indeed! Oh, GOOD-bye! Yes, and did you 

ever hear such a sermon? The most ridiculous 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 31 



I ever heard. No, I'm afraid I'm detaining 

you. Well, GOOD-bye, good-BYE! 

She turns from the '■phone. 

Owen, take the young lady's traveling bag to the 
blue room. 

Ow. Taizey voo, madame. 

He picks lip the bag. Marie goes into co?ivtdsions. 
Mrs. a. What did you say, Owen? 
Ow. I said, Taisey voo, ma'am. 
Mrs. a. And where did you learn that? 
Ow. That's Frinch, ma'am. Marie taught it to me. 
Mrs. a. And what does it mean? 
Ow. She tould me it meant the same as, With pleasure, 

ma'am, or the like o' that. 
Mrs. a. Well, don't do it any more. 
Ow. She thought it 'd please you, ma'am. 
Mrs. a. And it does please me to see that girl make a 

fool of you; but no more French, Owen. Marie, 

take the young lady to the blue room. You'll have 

to becken to her. 

She goes out of one door, laughing, as Ozven goes out of 

a7iother, shaking his fist at Marie. 
Penelope has ariseii afid has turned azvay to co7iceal her 

smiles. She stands stiffly, aivare that Marie is zvith 

her, yet not daring to face her. 
Marie peeps first over one shoulder, theti over the other, 

and giggles audibly; hut Penelope does 7iot move. Marie 

then comes in fro?it, perks her head on o7ie side a7id 

gri7is saucily i7i Pe7ielopesface. 

Pen. That will do, Marie. I think we understand one 

another. 
Marie. Mon dieu! Ma'm'selle can spik. 

Pen. Yes, ma'm'selle can speak. lam no more a deaf- 
mute than you are a French girl. Let us be honest 
while we can, Marie. Are you not an American 
girl? 

Marie. That's what I am. I've an Irish streak in me, 
but I'm American. 



32 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Pen. And v/here did you get the Parisian accent. 

Marie. Playin' with Canuck children when Father worked 
in the marble quarries up in Vermont. 

Pen. And you keep up false pretenses here, — 

Marie. Just cause I got started that way and I can't quit. 
I'm five hundred miles from home and I had no 
recommendations, and I wanted a job, and I heard 
that Mrs. Aspenleaf was just crazy for a French 
maid and wouldn't have any other. I applied for 
the place and I got it without any questions asked. 
What are you going to do about it? 

Pen. Well, until I hear something bad about you, and 
so long as your French is good enough for Mrs. 

Aspenleaf, I am going to keep your secret, 

just as surely as you keep 

mine. 

Marie. Well, you can count on me every time for keeping 
a secret. If there's any sides to this thing, I'm on 
the side of the old Doctor, and Mr. Reginald. 
I just believe, you can get him well, and all I want 
is the glory of helping you- When folks are in love, 
anyway, I believe in helping 'em along. 

Pen. Did I say anything about the tender passion? 

Marie. No, not to me. 

Pen. To my father? 

Marie. Yes 'm. 

Penelofe transfixes the girl by fointi7ig her finger at her. 

Pen. How do you know I have a father? 

Marie. Why, didn't you talk to him just now? 

Pen. Olf, did I? And you were behind the screen? 

Marie. What screen? 

Pen. There is but one. 

Marie. Oh, well, if you mean that screen, Say, you 

got me that time. 

Pen. Ah, Marie, Marie! You're a naughty little spy! But 
help us all you can, and you shall be forgiven, I 
am sure. Now show me to my room, dear. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 33 



Marie runs to L. U. and makes signs, inviting Penelope 

to folloTV and robe herself. 
Exeunt, laughing. 

Enter, R. U., Ozv en 'pushing Reginald' s chair . 
Ojven zuheels him to the ivi?idozu. 

Reg. Oh, what's the matter with you, Oney? You know 
I never want my face to the light. Turn me 
round, or get me goggles! 

Oiven turns the chair. 

Look here! Do you want to land me in a mad- 
house? Don't rub your hands on the chair, that 
way. Your hands are as husky as a woodchopper's; 
they actually rustle. Oh, do get a glycerin lotion, 
or, 

Ow- Or cold cream, sir? 

Reg. Yes, or tar, or anything. And Oney, that wheel 

has a thick place on it. Flesh and blood can't 

stand that. 
Ow. I'll sandpaper it, sir. 

Reg. Oh! Oh! Oo! Oo! Horrible! Sandpaper! I'll 
be shuddering all day! Never mention such a thing 
again! Find my handkerchief! You make me 
sweat, talking of such terrible thiags! Fan me, 
please! Not so hard! Just hard enough! Did 
you see the new nurse? What kind of a thing 
is she? 

Ow. She's deef, sir. 

Reg. Well, don't I know that? Is she homely? 

Ow. Awful, sir, I think, tho' I hardly ever take notice. 

Reg. How old is she? 

Ow. She must be risin' forty or the like o' that; mebbe 
more or a little less; I raaly ct)uldn't tell without 
lookin'. 

Reg. Oh, aren't you a sweet, innocent thing? 
Enter Judge A. and Mrs. A. 

Mrs. a. {Rushing upon him.) How's my darling boy? 
Reg. {Dodging caresses.) I'm a whole lot weaker than 



34 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



ever. I can't raise my head the thousandth part of 
an inch. Please don't, Mother! 

Enter Penelope in nurse'' s costume. She brings a chafing- 
dish, etc., on a tray, places it on a table and busies 
herself there. Judge A. takes a place near her and 
enters into pantomime occasionally. 

Mrs. a. You poor, dear, suffering thing! Mamma thought 
it would like to have its head stroked. Ah, here's 
our nurse! Isn't it awful, Reggie, to think that 
she can't hear a word I say, and can't enter into 
conversation? Wouldn't you rather be dead? 
And isn't she just the sweetest thing? 

Penelope is very busy arranging her paraphernalia. 
Reginald raises his head and tries to see her. Failing in 
that, he elevates himself on his elbotv afid turns about. 

Ow. Will you look at that! 

Mrs. A. makes haste to support him. 
Reg. {in a state of great excitement.) Mother! Mother! 

I know her! She is not deaf! I know her! Miss 

Penn! Miss Penn! Will she not look this way? 

Father! {A pause.) Miss Penn! Merciful God! 

She IS deaf! 
Ow. She is that! 
A. {Sotto voice.) Bravo! You went thro' that, you can 

go thro' anything. But he says he knows you? 
Reg. What prince of all the fools that ever breathed, 

thought first of putting a deaf-mute in a sick-room? 
A. Thought you knew her, did you, Reginald? 
Reg. Yes, but I — did — not. 

Mrs. a. Of course, not! Shall its mother lay him down? 
Reg. {Starting up.) Ah, did you see that? No woman 

btit Miss Penn ever had that poise to the head. It 

is Miss Penn or her double. 
Mrs. a. Does she make you nervous, darling boy? If 

she does, she 

Reg. Does she make me Yes, but she's good to look 

at. There's healing for me in merely 

Penelope comes dozvn the stage torvard Reginald' s chair. 
A. {Sotto voice.) Steady, now, my girl! 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 35 



Penelofie comes smiling to Reginald, takes his hand, opens 
her zvatch and counts his pulse. 

Mrs. a. Well, that's one comfort; you can talk while she 
counts his pulse. Dear old Macthinkar used to 
frown so, and lose his count, you know, 

Penelope returns to the table and makes a note of the pulse 
on her clinical record. 

A. Now, that I call scientific and rational. Verbal reports 
don't go here: what we prove, we prove by the 
record. 
Penelope comes dozvn agai?i and puts a thermometer in 

Reginald's mouth. She holds the zvatch open. Reginald 

makes dreadful itiarticulate sounds. 

A. Keep your mouth shut! 

Penelope pinches his lips into a pucker. 

Ow. Well, she just bangs Banagher! 

Mrs. a. Who's Banagher? 

Ow. Indeed, ma'am, I don't rightly know, but Mother 

used to tell me that Banagher bangs the divil 

himself. 

Penelope zvithdratvs the thermometer. She goes again to 
the table to make notes. 

Reg. Hold your tongue, Owen! 

Mrs. a. Yes. It's a good time to "taisey voo." 

a. You should not speak so before the young lady. 

Ow. I thought she was deef, sir. 

Reg. Well, don't think! Be yourself! No good comes of 
thinking,anyway» — in your case. 

Penelope has returned to his chair. She puts a finger on 
Reginald'' s chin, depresses his chin and, thrusting out 
her tongue, compels him to the same exhibit. The tongue 
inspected, she nods zvisely, snaps his teeth together, and 
m,akes a note on the tablet. 

Ow. {Aside.) Will ye look at that? 

Reg. By Jove, that's cool! You'd think I was a horse on 

sale! 
Mrs. a. Why, that's positively ill-bred! 

Penelope turns back the afghan, exposes Reginald' s feet, 
removes one slipper a?id then the other, feels his toes, 
nods in an I-told-you-so manner, goes up to the table and 
brings dozvn a hot-zvater bag zuhich she dzdy applies. 



36 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Reg. ^Astounded.) By Jove! How'd she know my toes 

were cold 
Mrs. a. Now that surely is going to extremes. 
A. I believe, Reginald, that the unfortunate female had 

hopes that she could hear those stockings of yours. 

Don't you think they are pretty loud? 
Mrs. a. That will do. Judge! It's a poor time for joking. 

Besides, I bought those stockings for the dear boy, 

myself. I thought they would brighten up his 

sick-room a little. 
A. Oh, well, then, I have nothing to say. You attained 

success. 

Penelofe has already gone back to her table and entered 
up the state of his toes, on the record. She noiv presents 
it to Reginald and points to the last entry. 

Reg. Well, if that isn't cool! I am to be asleep, she says, 
at ten thirty-five. 

Mrs. a. {Fe7telope, her arm about Mrs. A's wai'sf, leads 
her to an exit and dismisses her with a smile.) 
Well, mercy on us! If she hasn't confidence! Do 
you think you can sleep, Reggie, dear? I believe 
you can. Feel better, already, don't you, love? 

The last speeches are delivered as she passes from viezv, 
Penelope has already made her attack on Judge Aspen- 
leaf. She starts him on his Journey. 

A. Reginald, I used to pity you, but now I envy you. She 
is just so deaf that I will take the opportunity of 
saying that she's a jewel. 

Ozven has the em,pty oxygen cylinder in his arms and is 

dism,issed zvith an imperative gesture. 
Fenelofe lights the lamp under a chafing-dish. 

Reg. Ob, one moment. Miss . Bah! I was about to 

ask her name. Forgot she was deaf. What the 
dickens is she doing, now? {He twists about to 
see her.) Hello! Sterilizer? No, it's a chafing- 
dish! Say, Reggie, dear, this is mighty cosy! 
{He twists still farther, to see her.) I vow this is 
my good day: I could hardly lift my head yester- 
day; now I can raise myself on my elbow. {He 
does raise himself on his elbow and gazes at Pene- 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 37 



lope.) Say, nursie, you do look like Miss Penn, 

God bless her, wherever she may be! But 

you're larger and stronger, and, if it isn't treason 
to a first love to say it, you're a whole lot hand- 
somer than she ever was— — or ever will be! 
Penelope is stirring a coticoction -vigorously . 
Ah, Miss Penn, Miss Penn, you had your sport 
with the idle invalid, but I'll even up matters yet! 
ril get well and strong and I'll find you somewhere, 
well and strong, and I'll capture you yet! You 
were cruel and capricious, but something tells me 
that you loved me just a little bit, and that the 
little flame grew, and that you are thinking of me 
this very minute. 

Penelope stirs 7iot quite so vigorously, and she has turned 
her back tocvard the patient and the audience. 

Reggie, dear, a deaf-mute nurse is a great inven- 
tion. It gives me good leave to breathe aloud a 
dear name that has not crossed my lips for months 
and months. 

He takes a long look at Penelope, zvho is stirring very 
slozvly. He heaves a sigh from the depths. 

By all the gods at once, she's like her! Ah, nursie, 
if you could talk, with Miss Penn's voice, I think 
that I would get well and make love to you! 

Penelope pours out a vuhite fluid into a pretty bozul. She 
comes dozvn to his left, sets doiu?i the bozvl, puts a nap- 
kin under his chi?i, slips her left arm under his pillozu, 
brt?igs him to a half- sitting posture and feeds him vjitli 
a spoon. Betzveen the doses he exclaims zuith great 
enthusiasm. 

I 



Clam-broth ! glorified ! Seasoned right 

Hot enough! Not too hot! Wow, but I feel 

better! Reggie, this is great! Miss Penn! 

If you could see me now! Give me that 

loving-cup! This stuff's too good for a spoon, 

only me! 

He drains the cup and in a playful exaggeratioyi of ecstasy 
he holds it to his lips inverted. Penelqpe taps it zuith 
her spoon to indicate that the draught has been taken, 
a7id there's a suspiciofi of afi impeyiding romp zvJien she 



38 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



^ulls it aijuay from him. She places his ^HIotju in such 
fashion as to leave him, half sitting. Then she mahes an 
enti-y oyi her tablet. She exhibits the entry a7id he reads. 

Reg. "Clam-broth, six ounces, taken with relish at ten 
thirty. Sleep at ten thirty-five." Well, if that 
isn't the coolest proposition! I don't sleep in day- 
time and I never will. She's too fresh! But she's 

just NICE. 

Penelope gives his pillozvs a slight adjustment. She 
strokes the hair about his brozus zvith a rhythmic motion^ 
using first o?ie hand and the7i the other. 

Say, girl, don't do that! You never were hired for 
that sort of gymnastics. 

She gradually changes the stroking to his eyebrovus and 
STJueeps the tifs of her fingers arouyid the cheeks and 
under the chin. He squirms vigorously, at first, and 
then less vigorously. 

Oh, you merciless wretch! If you only dreamed 
how ticklish I am about my neck! 
His hand, raised in protest, rests lightly on hers. 

Oh, pshaw, now! When do you let up on this? 
\A pause.) I'd fifty times rather {He yaw?is.) 
you'd read me to sleep. {A long pause.) Read! 

Just so. Forgot she was a a deaf- 

m u t e. W e 1 1, of all r i-d ic - u - 1 o u s, 

un-speak-a-ble bores, this bangs 

'em all! (^He yawns deeply and flings one arm 

above his head after the manner of one who is mak- 
ing himself very comfortable.) Nursie's a — ^ — 

good old dummie; j u s t as ^lo vely 

^as 

PSnelope bends lozv to catch the name, but it does not come. 
She gently disengages her ha7id from his, leaves him sleep- 
ing and crosses the stage. She sits near the great table, 
takes' a note from her bosom and reads it. 

Pen. How often have I read these lines? And yet I know 
each pleading word as a nun knows her prayers. 

Owen. Anything wanted, miss? Oh, I beg pardon, miss: 
I forgot you were deef. S'pose I must write it. 
He sits dozvn and ag07iizes over a message zvhich he 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 39 



zvrites on a tablet. While ivriting he reads each zvord 
zvith a draivl, a7id a lotig pazise betzveen zuords. 

"Mrs. Aspenleaf wants to know if you have 
a trunk coming, or anything like that?" 

Penelope takes the tablet, tears off his note, throzvs it on 
the table, scribbles one herself. 

If she only could talk as fast as she writes. 
He takes the tablet, reads her ansztier,;peels it off, throvus it 
on the table, also. 

"No TRUNK TO-DAY." I suppose that means a 
Saratoga to-morrow. 

Peyielope points to her patient, Ozven ijisfects him at a 
distance. 

Well, that does beat my time! Nurse or no nurse, 
you can work a miracle. 

She takes uf the tablet again ayid zvrites. Ozven reads 
after she presents it to him. 

"Wheel him gently into the alcove bedroom. 
Do not AWAKEN HIM." Oh, I'll have the tread of 
a cat. Wouldn't I be the fool o' the world if I had 
him awake? He's a good fellow, but he's crab- 
beder than a box o' tigers. 

Penelope goes over to her patietit. Ozven picks up all the 
papers from, the table and crams them into his pockets. 
Then zvith the extremest care he zvheels Reginald 07it. 

Enter Marie from, the other side, imitatifig his tip-toe 
azvkzvardness. He does not see her. She pauses a bit 
until he is safely off the stage. Then she runs dozvn to 
Penelope at the front. 

Pen. Oh, girl, let me say something to you or I cannot 
long exist! 

Marie. I'll trade places. Miss Macthinkar. I'm dead sick 
o' my French. We children at home used to imi- 
tate the broken English of the Canadian French 
about us, but there was no fun in it after a half 
hour. Now I've had two weeks of it! Talk o' 
dyin'! I'd been in my grave if it wasn't for the fun 
I have makin' fun of Oney. 

Pen. You find it such great sport? Take care, my girl! 

Marie. Oh, I say it's better than pickles just to make a 
monkey of a man. 



40 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Pen. Are you a Darwinian, Marie? 

Marie. No'm. I'm a Catholic; so is Oney. 

Pen. Bah, I wasn't talking of creeds, my dear; I was 

thinking of Darwin's theory. 
Marie. Oh, I know, — I know! He thought y' c'd make a 

man out of a monkey. 
Pen. Well, yes; poor Darwin is blamed with that. 
Marie. Then I'm with him, for I can make a monkey out 

of a man, — just too easy. 

Penelope is laughing at the girl. Suddenly her face groivs 
serious, the?i very afixious, as she tumbles over the 
articles on the table. 

Marie. You are looking for something? 

Pen. Marie, surely 3^ou saw some papers here when you 

came in? 
Marie. No. 

By this time Penelope is STJuiftly turning the leaves of the 
books on the table. She looks under the table cover and 
under the table itself. Marie joins in the search in a 
languid, amused fashion at first, and then very eaerly^ 

Pen. Owen and I exchanged written messages here, and 

tossed them on the table. 
Marie. Well, I don't see why you should be so disturbed, 

Miss Macthinkar, about notes from 

Her zeal suddenly fails. 

Pen. Oh, but there was a note, ah, Marie, another note 
written me months ago, 

Marie. By Oney? 

Pen. No, no! Oh, can't you find it Marie? And can't 
you understand? 

Marie. Who wrote it then? 

Pen. Oh,^help me, Marie: I must find it! Master Regi- 
nald wrote it. 
Marie is frantically searching again. 

Marie. You wouldn't want the Judge to find it? 

Pen. Oh, no; not for worlds! 

Marie. Nor Mrs. Aspenleaf? 

Pen. No, no; not her! 

Marie. Nor Mrs. Macthinkar? 

Pen. I had rather die ten thousand deaths! 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 41 

Marie. Nor the Doctor? 
Pen. He has read it. 

Marie. I didn't think Mr. Reginald was able to write notes? 

Pen. Oh, Marie! Don't talk! Just search and search and 

find it! He wrote it in Italy months ago. 

Marie. ^Thunderstruck?) Oh, mercy me! Does he know 
you? 

Pen. Oh, hush, Marie! Just find it! He knew me when 
I could talk. Find the note, please! He doesn't 
know me now. 

Marie. Oh! {She sinks into a chair, absolutely over- 
whelmed.) 

Pen. I'll tell you all about it if you'll only help me. 

She is extending her search to remoter articles of furniture. 

Marie. (Recovers herself and proceeds to the unravelling 
of a great mystery.) Who has been in this room 
since you laid the note on the table? 

Pen No one but Oney, and I do not remember that he 
went near the table? 

Marie. The loafer! Stop huntin'. It's no use. He's the 
one to search. I'll get 3^our note, Miss Mac- 
thinkar, if he hasn't eaten it. He's that silly of 
late that I can do anything with him. Oh, you 
villain! Just wait till I get my hands on you! 
She lacerates the zvhole atmosphere zvith her talons. 
Exit Marie. 
Pen. What a fool was I to keep it, or, keeping it, not to 
keep it safe against my heart! That Owen should 

read it, Oh, horrible! That he should hand 

it about to people in this house, intolerable! 

Ah, me! I was so happy to be of use to Reginald! 

And now so wretched! 

She falls into a chair, extends her arm,s across the table 

and buries her head in them,. 
Enter Oiven and Marie: Ouuen comes backzvard. He is 
laughing and defending himself as zvell as he can from, 
the assaults ivhich Marie is making zvith a broom. 



42 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Ow. Oh, say, now! Aisey, aisey! Ouch! That time y' 
got past my guard! Murder! Police! 

Marie. You will give me th' leetle billet? 

Ow. You will give me th' leetle kiss? 

She reverses the broom a7id charges him ivith the handle. 
He catches the end dexterously and drazvs her to him. 
The impetuosity of her charge assists him to pass an 
arm about her zvaist. The broom is 7ioiv out of the 
action. She tugs at his fingers zuith one hand: the other 
is at his throat. Occasionally his head flies back as if 
he TXjere about to part company zuith it. 

Marie. You s'all geef me ze billet, — ze note! It iss 

ma'm'selle's! 
Ow. How do you know I have it about me, spitfire? 

Give me the kiss. 
Marie. How do you I haf ze kiss about me? 
Ow. Cause I'm lookin' at it now. 
Marie. My kisses arr for my husban'. Many times have I 

tell you. 

Ow. Right you are, darlin'! That's me! Gi' me the kiss! 

Marie. No! Let me, go, you beeg, beeg grrizzlee bear! 

One vill hear you! Sha-a-me! See! Ze nairse! 

Ozven had 7tot noticed Penelope. He looks back at her and 

relaxes his clasp of the girl. 
With a ttvitch and a tzuist, a push at his throat and a tug 
at his fingers, Marie frees herself and ru7is dozvn to the 
left front and puts a table betzueen herself and Ozven. 
Ozven races about the table pursui?ig Marie. Both are 
laughing, but he presently falls over a chair zvhich she 
flings in his zvay. He I'ises zvith difficulty, and limps to 
a chair at center. There he groayis and caresses his 
shin assiduously. 
Marie. I am so sorry of your laig, Meestaire Owen. 
Ow. {Savagely) Yes, y' are! 

Marie. {Hei- hand is on his shoulder.) We haf been so 

loving friends, and now is it that you are so angry? 

Ow. ( With a dreadful frown which gradually unfolds into 

an expansive grin.) Yes; — I — am, — not. 

Penelope rises zvearily. With a gesture of despair she 

zvalks off slozvly, R. U., as if she neither sazu nor heard 

the scuffle. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 43 



Marie. Poor ma'm'selle! She cannot hear nozzing! 
Ow. Naw, but she c'n hear something. 
Marie. Ma'm'selle, ze nairse? 

Ow. Yes, ma'm'selle, the nurse. She c'n hear a whole lot. 
Marie. Impossible! She haf not heerd our combat. She 
lays so still while we are fighting. 

Ow. [With the affectation of supernatural wisdom.~) Oh, 
she's heerd nothing, eh? And she lays so still, did 
she? Lard of mercy, but the spring showers has 

made y' green! But say, Marie, 

He has apparently given over all pursuit. Marie grovjs 
cordial and conciliatory . 

What makes you say she lays, and the like o' 
that? I wonder y' don't try to talk English, same 
as I do. 

Marie. I should say lie? 

Ow. Cert. 

Marie. Oh, Meestaire Owen, you haf so beeyuteeful lan- 
guage an' so deeficult. Can you to me explain, 
perhaps? 

Ow. Oho! Can I to you explain, perhaps? W'y that's 
what I'm here for. Let me elucidate. Suppose 
now,^ you told Mrs. Aspenleaf wan o' y'r best fibs, 
and backed it up wid a whopper. Now, there you 
lie. Get the idea? All right! But now, on the 

contrary, 

She drazus near to him on the left. 

Marie. Yes, eet iss very interesting. 

Ow. Supposin' I say, on the contrary, that I'm goin' to 

sing a song, 

Marie. Oh, no, Meestaire Owen! Be marecifool! 

In pretty protest she places her ha?id on his shoulder. 
Ow. Hold on! I'm not goin' to make a disturbance, and 
rouse up the whole house. I'm only supposin; 
you little goslin.' 

She slips her hand into the side pocket of his jacket and 

• abstracts a paper. While he continues his discourse, she 

glances at it, crumples it impatiently, and flings it avuay. 



44 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Now, f r the sake of argumint, s'pose I warble one 
of me beautiful ditties, — wan o' the songs o' green 
Ireland, f'r example, or wan composed in France, 
— your own degenerate country. Suppose I make 
the burrds of heaven look envious. D' ye see? 
That's no lie: that's me LAY. See how 'tis? You 
TELL a lie; I SING a LAY. That's easy! 

His wpTvard glances have very much favored her f>ocket- 
^icking. 

Marie. Oh, eet iss a charming language! I see, I see! 

You sing a lay, like ze ole hen which haf laid ze 

fraish ^%%^ — iss it not so? 
Ow. Wait a moment, till I collect what little 's left of 

me mind. Say! yoii're right! The hen is off; 

you're on. I sing; the hen sings. I have a lay; 

she has a lay. I have the freshest voice; she has 

the freshest lay. 

But, say! Let's change the subject before I go 

crazy. It's funny about a hen, isn't it? She lays 

till she sets. Ever think o' that in France, Marie? 
Marie. S'all we not say, she sits? So like I sit? 

She places a chair tete-a-tete 07i his right, and sits. 
Ow. No, we don't say she sits; she just sets, — on her 
complete lay-out. 
Marie gets into his right pocket. 

Marie. An' have we some English words for Monsieur le 

Chanticleer? 
Ow. D' ye mean the rooster? Not a word f'r the danged 
loafer. Y' see he can't neither lay nor set; he just 
bluffs 'round stan'in' till he goes to roost. Hence 
the name rooster. Oh, that's easy tellin'! 
Marie has read another note a7id has Jlung it azuay. She 
insi?iuates her hand again into ^his -pocket.' Her mouth 
comes perilously near to his ear and her m,a?iner is 
layiguishingly deceptive. 

Marie. An' you will tell me now of ze beeyutifool leedle 

chicks, 

Ow. Aw, say, Marie, you're goin' too far into family 

matters. Keep out o' that, always. We mustn't 

break into their set. 



tLofC. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 45 



Marie. But, Meestaire Owen, I mus' ask you one more 
question. {She goes again into his pocket.) If we 
have some time two or t'ree eggs of the duck 
under the ze setter hen, 

Ow. Hold on', for the love of Heaven, while I have me 
intellect unimpaired! I'm no hen farmer, I tell 
you; Pm a professor of the English language, an' 
tired o' me job. Keep out the duck's eggs! Say, 
ye mustn't say, setter hen. That jars me 
turrible! A setter's a kind of a dog. 

Marie. Meestaire Owen! 

Ow. Fact! A setter is a birrd-dog, — wan wid long hair. 

Marie. For the hatching of the eggs of the birds? Oh, 
how poetic! 

Ow. Great Jiminy, no! For hunting birrds. Say Marie, 
let's talk sense a bit. I told you that Father was 
gettin' old, and he swears I must come down an' 
take the farm. Y' remember? 

Marie. You mus' leave us, then? 

Ow. An' Mother swears she'll murder me if I come home 
without a wife. 

Marie. Yes? How iss your laig, now? 

Ow. Oh, I don't care about a scraped shin. You'd better 
be thinkin' of my lacerated heart. Come along, 
and be the farmer's wife! 

Marie. Hark! Madame calls. 

She backs azvay toward the center. 
Mrs. Asfenleaf is heard calling her. 
She ru7is to center entrance. 

Yes, Madame! Instantly! 
Ow. Then throw me the kiss for your husband. 

She hesitates, then slozuly touches her fingers to her lif>s 
and bloxvs him a kiss. Then from right and left hands 
she im.petuously throtvs him tzuo or three more and runs 
azvay zvith, 

Marie. Coming, Madame; instantly! 

Ow. {.Laughing heartily.) Hurroo, hurroo! She's just 
me own, an' I'm her onliest Oney. By garry, let 



46 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



her keep her kiss for her husband! She's right! 
Mother'd say so. And if he gets it, I get it. Dear, 
dear! Will you look at the papers she stole? 
Wonder if I'm too cute for a married man. She 
got every wan but the right wan. She'd got that 
if I hadn't it in my pocketbook. 
Enter Penelofe. She looks about as if to Jind Marie. 
In pantomime she directs Ozven to tvheel itt Reginald. 
Exit Penelope. Ozven im,itates her pantomime. 

Ow. She wants me to wheel him in. Well, when I do I'll 
be talkin', and when I get to talkin' to Master 
Reginald, she won't be makin' signs. Oh, no! I'll 
tell him plain that she's a fraud. 
Enter Aspenleaf. 

A. Owen, did you stop at the tailor's. 

Ow. I did, sir. 

A. Bring home the suit? 

Ow. No, sir. He said he was pressed for time but the suit 
wasn't. ' 

A. Get it to-morrow. 

Ow. Could I speak to you about the nurse, sir. 
A. Certainly. What's her case? 

Ow. She's a case of false pretenses, sir, in my opinion. 
A. Come, come, boy! You should not say that! 
Ow. She's not deef, sir, nor dumb, sir. 
A. Oh, come now, Owen! Do you think that Macthinkar 
would be so deceived? 

Ow. I do ilot, sir. He's too cute for that. He talks to 
her, sir. 

A. Ah, you have heard him, Owen? Well, I am told that 
they are acquainted with each other; they're 
blood-relations, in fact, and she can understand 
him a little by lip-read<ing. Lip-reading is a won- 
derful thing, Owen. 

Ow. 'T is so, sir. But she talks to him. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 47 



A. Ah, is that so? She talks to him? Well, I suppose 
it is natural for females to talk back; even you 
used to talk back, did you not, when your mother 
was giving you a lecture? 

Ow. I did not, sir — not anyways when she had a slipper on 
her foot. 

A. Well, I think that a deaf-mute, highly trained, could 
talk to a relative as much as the nurse has done. 
Enter Mrs. A. 

What do you think, my dear? This fellow is try- 
ing to convince me that the nurse is not a deaf- 
mute. 

Mrs. a. Why, how perfectly silly you can be, Owen, 

when you try. 
Ow. Yes, ma'am. Thank you kindly, ma'am. Shall I 

bring in Master Reginald? 
Mrs. a. Yes, if he is awake. 

Exit Ozuen. 

A. Wife, after what Owen has said, I wish you would quiz 
Doctor Macthinkar thoroughly and see what he can 
say about the girl's deafness. 

Mrs. a. Oh, do you suppose that I could be deceived in 
the matter? Why it isn't to be thought of for a 
moment. Why, my love, how in the world could 
she ever help joining in conversation if she had 
speech and hearing. It's impossible: I know that 
by myself. 
Enter Penelope. 

A. No, no! I just wanted to see him on the defensive. 
Tax him with deceit and a breech of friendship, 
and from the bottom of my heart I pray that I 
may be there to hear him. 

Enter Macthinkar and Marie. 

Marie. Non, Monsier le Docteur, I am sure it iss not 

here. 
A. Ah, Macthinkar, you've come in good time. We were 

talking of you. 



48 What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



Mact. I've had the ill luck to mislay me phonendoscopic 
stethoscope, and I am doublin' on me tracks to 
find it. They tell me the lad has been sleeping 
soundly. 'Deed but I'm glad o' that. 

Enter Reginald at center in dressing gotvn, lea7iitig on 
Ozven'' s shoidder. 

Now I would not wish to be too sanguine, but it 
is my firm belief that he will soon be able to take 
a little walking exercise. 

Reg. K^Coming down to the front with Owen.) Well said, 
old prophet! 

There is a general outcry and exclamatioji by all save 
Penelope. She turns aivay and cover's her face zvith her 
hands. Mrs. As;penleaf is incliyied to fall on the neck of 
her dear boy as she takes her place at his side, but is 
ge?itly cared for by her husbajid a7id is restrained. 

Mact. Lad, this is too much, too abrupt a change 

an effort too great for your strength. Be advised! 

Reg. One moment. Doctor! I must have a word with the 

nurse. 

Penelope faces him. 

If I am not all wrong, you are Miss Penn. 

Pen. Miss Penn, or Penelope Macthinkar, as you will. 

Mrs. a. Judge, did I not tell you her face was familiar? 
Oh, mercy me! She can talk! And Doctor Mac- 
thinkar, 

Reg. Mother, dear, pray grant me the floor for a moment; 
then deal with the good Doctor according to his 
crimes, which are many. Miss Penn, Owen has 
given me a note which I wrote to you long months 
ago. Some one has taken so good care of it that 
I venture to think it worth answering. 

He leaves Ozven'' s side, advances in a feeble fashion, and 

places the note ifi her hand, and retains the hand. 
Ozven slips azvay to pose ivith Marie. 

Pen. No; you shall dictate the answer, and I promise that 
my father shall ratify it. 



What Would Mrs. Macthinkar Say? 



49 



Mact. No, no'! We've played our bit of comedy without 
her so far, and it is but fair that the ratification be 
left to your good mother, Penelope. She's a 
wumman of most excellent sense and of sufficient 
sentiment, or near it; and she loves you lovers well 
since baby days; and, if she's rightly approached, 
I mak na doot of what Mrs. Macthinkar'll say. 
Reginald, and me poor deaf dowter, dinna ye hear 
the wedding march? 

Evide7itly the organ-griyider has made a long rozmd and 
IS retnr7iing for his dinner. At Macthinkar' s f.rst 
-words the music is heard faintly, and as the curtain 
fcdls it is going fortissimo. 



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